


A Toast To The Dreamers And The Sleepers; The Bravest Of Us All

by Nyankittypug



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: (Yes that includes most/all of Fig’s dads), Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I’m writing this at three am sorry if I miss anything, Multi, Spoilers (?), The rest of the Bad Kids’ parents, Tired Teens, big hoodies, cause it wouldn’t be written by me without it, it takes place after season two so just assume spoilers, platonic cuddles, romantic/non-platonic cuddles, the bad kids - Freeform, tired adults
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25645816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyankittypug/pseuds/Nyankittypug
Summary: A toast to the dreamers, who wake despite hoping they never will, and to the sleepers, who sleep despite fearing the dreams that lurk behind their eyes
Relationships: Ayda Aguefort/Figueroth Faeth, Kristen Applebees/Tracker O'Shaughnessey, Zelda Donovan/Gorgug Thistlespring
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Riz

Riz didn’t sleep much. Sleeping wasted time and time was essential to get things done. He liked to work, it kept him busy and busy was good. Sleep only wasted the precious hours he had, and besides, he dreamed a lot when he slept. Dreams bothered Riz, before and after (especially after) journeying to the Forest of the Nightmare King. Dreams served no purpose, they didn’t help him with his cases (usually, dream magic was weird), they didn’t help him find clues, they didn’t help him solve any problems. All they did was either remind him of what he couldn’t have or what he most feared of happening. He’d had nightmares frequently after his dad died. He could remember the funeral, bleak and cold in the angry winter air.

Riz would dream every single time he shut his eyes, so he stopped shutting his eyes. He remembered when his mom had lied and told him that his dad died from getting sick. For years he had dreamed of sterile white rooms, of heart monitors with their rickety beeps and sharp lines, the sound of low, painful breathing filling up the room like a dying bird’s cry or the shriek of a woman giving birth. Riz couldn’t move in those dreams, he could only stand for what felt like hours staring at the white bedspread, a wall clock in the corner of his eyes tick-tick-ticking away quietly under the weight of his father’s breathing, a clipboard laying beside his father’s feat that he couldn’t read but somehow knew what it said. He always knew in the dream, without a doubt he knew what ailed his father, but the minute he woke up he didn’t know. Riz didn’t like not knowing. After he and the Bad Kids found the ship in Aelwyn’s room and started piecing together the theory that Riz’s dad had died on the ship, his dreams changed. Now he was standing on the deck of a boat, his father gripping onto the rail for his dear life while rain poured down like bullets from artillery guns in the heat of war and waves rocked the boat and leaped at the chance to drag whatever they could down with them, hungry for sailors and the ship that denied it it’s simplest need. Riz would have to sit there and wait and watch as his father would be slammed down onto the railing and deck by the waves, his grip loosening more and more each time, only to finally be swallowed by the sea. Riz always knew, even when he woke up, that his father would keep eye contact with him as he drowned. The silent plea of “Help” lost to the merciless depths. And then he learned about the dragon. Luckily, as soon as Riz found out about Goldenrod eating his father, he ate him, so he was thankful, and surprised, to be met with no more nightmares about his father dying. That night he had a sweet dream. He dreamed about his mother and father dancing in a comfortable club. Soft music played in the background as silhouettes of people danced around his parents, but the spotlight was on them. His father wore a deep blue suit, Riz didn’t feel fear at the thought of the ocean when he saw it, with a crisp white button up shirt underneath the suit jacket, Riz couldn’t help but be reminded of the hospital room he had never seen but had plagued him for years. The tie, however, was a deep crackling red. Riz could suddenly taste Kalvaxas’s flesh on his tongue once more. His father’s hair was slicked back, his hand on Riz’s mother’s waist while the other held her hand up gently. His mother wore a plain buttercup yellow dress that, without even needing to see them, he could tell it brought out her eyes. They looked so happy together, dancing so comfortably and smiling so easily. For the first time, in so so long, Riz was happy in a dream. And right before he woke up, his father turned to him with a smile and said “Good job kid.” Riz would never tell anyone about that dream, but when he woke up that morning and walked into the kitchen of his apartment to see his mother with red puffy eyes, he knew she had had the same dream. “Hey Mom, you want some coffee?” Sklonda looked up and smiled at him, nodding. She would wear a yellow shirt to work later, and Riz would keep his dad’s gun close. He’d decided to tell his friends about his nightmares after the events of spring break, sophomore year. They were all sleeping over at Mordred Manor playing Truth or Dare. It wasn’t even his turn, it had just slipped when he realized that none of them wanted to go to sleep. He had gone quiet, expecting to be razzed or checked off as normal in his group of therapy-needing friends, but was instead met with a large group hug and understanding gazes. Riz’s chest welled up with the same comfortable feeling he had gotten when he had that dream of his father and mother, and he knew he would be okay. Riz would have nightmares, he came to terms with that. He would have horrible nightmares and he’d have pretty lame nightmares. But at least he knew that there was always someone watching, someone that was proud of him. At least he knew that he would always have one shoulder, usually at the very least six, to lean on. And he couldn’t have been any happier with any other fact or clue that lead him to believe that he was loved.


	2. Adaine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes all you need is a quiet space and a good book

Adaine was an elf, that was obvious of course, but that meant one thing. Adaine didn’t need to sleep, she tranced to get her spells and health back, which also meant that she shouldn’t  _ get  _ or  _ have  _ nightmares or dreams in general, but sometimes that didn’t matter. If Adaine was exhausted enough or she was at a sleepover she’d sleep even after trancing, if only to not be a creep while her friends slept. Her nightmares were a lot like her visions, fast paced, difficult to keep up with, and disturbing. In some she would have to run to keep up with the images and scenes or else she’d be succumbed by the sound of roaring waves and the smell of deep sea brine. The feeling of being sucked under as her lungs burned hotter than the nine hells and force her to gasp for breath. She’d tell herself over and over again that it’s just a dream, that it can’t hurt her but that didn’t make it seem any less scary, any less real, any less painful. But sometimes rationalization didn’t work, and she’d be left stuck trying to reach her way out of an endless abyss that only grew colder and darker with each leap of her stomach and jolt of pain as someone’s voice filled her thoughts. Well, as multiple  _ peoples _ ’ voices filled her  _ mind _ , there was a definite difference that she could feel with every fiber of her being before and after she would wake up. 

She had a lot of different nightmares, not just the one with shifting scenes and that damned raging ocean, however it did tend to bleed into all of them. That sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, that actual sinking feeling of her falling deeper and deeper into the ever hungry abyss as its ancient secrets reach out, too impatient to remain hungry any longer. In some nightmares she was lost in the Nightmare King’s forest again, calling out for her friends and for her sister and for Boggy and wishing that she hadn’t thrown away her jacket and orb, no matter how much she despised the large round object. In other’s she was still suspended over the edge of the cliff, slowly drowning in that orb of water as her father prepared to erase every last bit of her and make her the  _ perfect  _ daughter. Make her his little doll, prepared to do anything he asked of her and ready to no longer embarrass the family. Sometimes she was the doll, forced in a cage that was her own body to do whatever her father wished. 

Adaine had a hard time dealing with nightmares. They made her spiral into panic attacks and in some cases she would have to run to a window or garbage can or bathroom and puke as she sobbed and her stomach lurched to try and empty itself of the water it had convinced itself was inside of her. Boggy helped, his soothing croaks and holding him in her hands helped to center her, but there was only so much the familiar could do in hopes of calming her down and mellowing her out. Sometimes Adaine would wake up from the nightmares and would immediately run down the hall as quietly as she could, and if she didn’t find anyone then she would go through the door that connected the manor to Ayda’s library. She’d lose herself in the maze of aisles and shelves filled left and right with books, not a single one missing and not a single one going unread between her and Ayda. Aelwyn had told Fig about Adaine going to hide in the library and they both had teamed up with Ayda to make a little corner that was enchanted to always appear when Adaine needed it. It was a cozy corner with warm blankets and big plush bean bag chairs and books that made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. The whole area made her feel safe and happy. 

And whenever she would escape there she knew that Jawbone or Fig or Ayda or even Aelwyn wouldn’t be too far behind to show up and sit in the cozy corner with her. Fig wouldn’t smoke and she’d play soft sweet melodies and chords on her guitar, and Ayda would read with her or would research different subjects and ask to have intellectual conversations with her. Jawbone would come with two mugs of coffee and an understanding smile, she could almost see him in her mind’s eye setting the mugs down on the small end table that sat behind the bean bag chairs as he would sit down next to her, shuffling through different papers he needed to sort through or with a book on different mental illnesses or religions in his hand. She knew he would be able to tell if she wanted to talk about the nightmares based on how she looked but he would always ask anyways. It would be one of the first things he would do. He’d sit down, ruffle her hair with his big delicate paw, still wearing his pajamas simply because she had gotten them for him for father’s day. His gravelly voice would be soft and open, an invitation she knew she could turn down, and sometimes she would, but for the most part she’d open up about it halfway through her coffee or tea or her book or the moment he asked. 

Aelwyn was different. She wouldn’t come with anything, well besides the occasional blanket or Riz who would want to know where Adaine was, and she would sit quietly on a bean bag and read a practical book on spells or cantrips. Or mystery books, in which case he’d get himself pumped up and start yelling at the characters for how stupid they were because he had already solved the mystery and Adaine would join him in his rambunctiousness and try and solve it as well. Sometimes she was still the uptight bitch sister Adaine remembered but she always seemed to snap out of it whenever she was alone with Adaine. Aelwayn wasn’t a very touchy person, but she would sometimes share a blanket and bean bag with Adaine and they’d read a book together. She’d make comments on how the characters were ridiculous or stupid but Adaine knew she enjoyed it. Everyone would come to learn about the spot soon enough and would each fall into their own routine of finding Adaine and spending the time with her in their own ways, but until then Adaine would enjoy the little moments she’d get with those that knew about it so far. 

That was one thing that she could use against the nightmares, her family. Their love was the best beacon of hope she could use against the ocean and voices. And that was good enough for her. 


End file.
